Two summers ago I went to Australia with my family. What a strange trip it was. I fell into a deep haze after the 24 hour journey. Having watched too many films and having had no sleep, we arrived in Sydney in the late evening, feeling more exhausted than ever. At least it was the evening.I can’t remember most of my time in Sydney and Melbourne.
My head was upside down, I could fall asleep anytime of the day. But as soon as we arrived to wilder places, it felt like I was finally waking up.
We arrived in Darwin, and had a three day trip to visit remote Aboriginal lands. These places were magical and left intact. I swam in the most mysterious places, scared of what was under my feet. I climbed hundreds of rocks, jumping in icy cold water in hidden places to get away from the unbearable heat of the sun on my skin. We slept in strange little motels, terrified by the idea of finding a snake napping in the shower after a Danish woman told us she had found a frog in her bathroom that same day. An Australian guy at the motel bar stared at us in desperation. It were as if he was trying to tell us to get away from here as soon as possible. We were the only ones there.
After three overwhelming days, bumpy roads and sun burns, we were finally going back to the city, looking forward to some rest. But the bus broke down in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles away from Darwin. I was starving and ended up sharing a disgusting pizza with my sister when we arrived back at midnight. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well in my entire life. But a few days after, we took the plane, for the fifth time, to an even more magical place.